


for you, i'd do anything.

by kuryenten



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Betrayal, Champion Shiro, Character Death, Family, Galra Keith, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prisoner Shiro, Violence, cursing, klance, klangst, plot from tumblr user voltrcn, prisoner lance, suggested hance, the galra empire is advancing, this is one of those fics that hurt me more than it hurts you, unintentional self-mutilation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-08-13 04:15:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7962025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuryenten/pseuds/kuryenten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keith couldn't look himself in the eye. He was a monster. He would always be one. He should have allowed himself to fly off into the nothingness of space when he had the chance. Maybe then, he'd belong somewhere. With the cosmic dust and the burning of stars, the recreation of planets and the serenity of never knowing and never caring about what lays beyond.</p><p>Maybe then he wouldn't be so alone.</p><p>[or, alternatively, the one where Keith has been a spy from the get-go.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. calculate.

He did this a lot.

Sat on the edge of his bed when the time read around 11:26am on Earth, with his arms wrapped about the bottom of his legs, head nestled between slightly spread knees and rubbing his bare arm. The spot where the quintessence had splashed, gushed across slightly tanned skin and forced it to revert to a different color.

It wasn’t right.

But it was, in his head. He saw this coming eventually. Just not so soon. He expected it closer to when they completely mastered their piloting the lions. Keith was afraid now.

This would be the thing that would make him lose his family.

He sat back up, slid on his jacket and clenched his gloves in his hand. The deep violet had seeped onto his fingers, splotches now showing there and his fingernails beginning to painfully elongate. Surely today would be the day that he was noticed. If not today, then tomorrow.

He wasn’t scared.

Slipping his gloves on reluctantly, he pulled himself to his feet, stretching out and feeling the tremor of cracks sound down his spine, a small noise escaping between closed lips. His mind was a stallion, broken and racing, and he took a steadying breath to keep himself from losing his head.

Cracked his neck. Set his hand on the panel to open his door, welcomed by the sound of voices floating from the dining hall not too far away.

He entered the room quietly, as he usually did, examined the table of space goo for lunch. He didn’t much care for it, but food was food in this place, and he smiled gently at Shiro when he was given a hearty nod as a greeting. If only he knew.

Shiro could never know.

He listened to the rowdy bunch as he pushed around his food until he heard the first snarky comment from Lance of the day, a simple, “wow, you look like shit.”

“Thank you, Lance. I sure do appreciate that.” Keith retorted, nose turned up at him with eyes slit. “Not looking too bad yourself.”

His sarcasm made little sense, and his team mate stared at him an odd way before turning his attention back to Hunk, who’d slipped and slammed his hand into his space goop. He was able to eat in silence then, like he liked to, and when he finished he waved to Shiro once more and escorted himself out.

He had a routine. Wake up, train, relax, eat, train, relax, repeat. Everyday unless something was wrong. Where there was, but he needed to work on himself. Solo sparring was more important than laying around and letting himself get rusty.

Slipping his jacket off, he glanced at his arm, lips pursed. The purple was beginning to move from the underside of his arm up, and if it stayed like this, then he’d be full Galran again by tomorrow night.

He could do this.

Equipping his bayard and pulling his hair back (it was growing more now and he needed to keep it out of his face), he looked up towards the ceiling door. “Start training sequence level one.”

He swung his arm out, allowing the flash of light to envelope his arm and the sword to unsheath itself. He stood, stanced with it gripped lightly in both hands, watching as the Gladiator toppled down and landed on it’s feet. It didn’t take more than a second for it to lunge forward, swiping it’s weapon in the air and towards the Red Paladin, who quickly flung his own up to block it.

Being pushed back, his eyes followed it as it ran almost on the wall of the training deck, twirled in the air and landed a sharp kick to his chest. He sputtered slightly, fell backward, recovered quickly while holding the forming bruise before rushing, slicing his bayard in the air and cutting a thick line down the middle of the machine.

It dropped, motionless, to the ground.

“Start training sequence level two.”

* * *

 

Hand placed on the wall, he kept himself upright as he walked back to the lounge, letting his knees take him down to a sitting position and his head tossing back to rest against the edge. Towel twisted around his neck, arms on either side of him, eyes shut firmly.

Exhausted.

Three hours straight of sparring, just to keep his mind off of his dilemma.

“You’re stinking up the room,” he heard, waving off what he could only vaguely register as Lance’s voice. “I was here first, Billy Ray.” He grew quiet again, or maybe Keith was dozing, before he felt the pressure shift to be closer to him. He was sitting a few inches away from his right arm. Good. His still mostly-human one.

“What are you doing?” He asked him, slow, between the heavy breaths that he couldn’t make deep. Shallow panting. Lance simply shrugged, examined his own nails.

“Debating if I should shower.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Same shower?”

“You wish.”

“Damn.”

They stayed sitting like that for a long time, Keith lazily pushing his fingers through the short locks of hair Lance had, locks that had begun to grow. He needed a haircut. They all probably did, and Keith knew that if he even offered a pair of scissors to anyone then he’d get his chopped off completely. He didn’t want that. He loved his hair.

After what felt like an eternity he pushed himself up, stretching with the sound that was almost reminiscent to a mewl which frightened him to no end, but Lance seemed oblivious to it. As he kept thinking, he had to pull the thoughts of sharing a shower stall with his boy. He couldn’t let him see him like this.

He couldn’t let anyone see.

He gripped his fingers, tugging the blue paladin up and pressing his lips gently to his cheek, exhaling what felt like a year’s worth of tension and rewarding him with a cock of the head, to which Keith only grinned. “Just getting used to affection.”

“Oh, shut up,” the blush that erupted onto his boyfriend’s cheeks made him laugh, and he led him down the hallways, winding and maze-like. They stayed silent through the whole journey, Keith having replaced his jacket onto sweaty limbs, but not caring enough.

Once they entered the room, he watched as Lance pulled his coat off and tossed it into the bin, then began to rid of the rest of his clothes. Keith was frozen.

Pants discarded, shirt being pulled off from his neck with one hand, and he felt his breath hitch into his throat. He’d seen him like this before -- almost completely naked, since the paladins would always shower together and discard the last of their garments as they entered the stall. But he couldn’t help his wandering hand, the one who reached forward the trace the muscle and bone of Lance’s broad shoulders, watching the shiver run down and the tiny glance over his shoulder, lips parted into a grin.

“What?” He asked, and Keith jolted out of his trance, the soft red crossing his cheeks making him look away. Lance continued his work, slipping off his boxers and climbing into the shower, shutting the curtain. He was talking, but Keith wasn’t listening.

They’d told their attraction to one another less than an Earth month ago. They hadn’t been alone, so vulnerable like that, since. Maybe his head was falling off his neck along with his sanity.

Keith physically shook the thoughts from his mind, stripping down entirely and grunting in some sort of response to his words, letting the warm water bathe over him. He could stand like that for hours, but the color of his skin was rapidly changing. It was crawling up his chest now.

He was fucked.

The water washed down the drain, and the more he scrubbed at his skin the more he prayed the purple would flake off like paint, but never did. The more frantic he became, the more he knew Lance would notice, and so he needed to stop.

He didn’t mean to scratch open his chest like a cat, but he did. The hiss he emitted was heard from the boy in the space beside him, and, being able to barely glance over the top, he quirked a brow. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. I just -- sore. Rubbed too hard.” He nodded once, wiping away at the small drops of blood that had pricked up, just glad that that part of him hadn’t changed yet. The moment his blood was yellow was when he knew shit was going to go down.

They finished in silence, but Keith allowed Lance to leave first so he wouldn’t be discovered.

He padded out into the hallway in just a towel, knowing that everyone should be in the dining hall at this point, and jogging down towards the bays. The only way he would be able to hide every piece of him was in his armor.

He had never changed so quickly. Tugging the black fabric onto his skin was just as difficult as he had thought it would be. The sticky spandex didn’t like him anyway, so it was even harder this way. Still wet, trying to be quick and slipping over himself.

He rested the metal onto him, tucking his helmet under his arm, and slid down the shaft.

He really did hate this whole thing. He felt like it was a carnival ride, getting on the little hoverbike and the elevator. But he shrugged, only relaxing when he was inside of Red. She made him feel right.

But that solace only lasted a few moments before she growled at him. His brows furrowed, and she leaned forward, launching Keith straight out of the cockpit and shutting down. He landed with a cruel thud, sliding a few feet, trying to gather his wits.

“What the fuck was that about?!” He shouted, unable to get back to his feet. He immediately thought the worst. Never had she done that.

Were the lions compromised?

He racked his brain, trying to think. The only two people who always had their coms open were Allura and Shiro.

Out of thoughtless panic, Keith slipped on his helmet, immediately accessing the coms and shouting over them in his frantic horror. “Guys, Red just spat me out like a bad piece of gum. She growled at me! Something’s not right.”

He was given a cheerful giggle. “Keith, I told you that the Red Lion is temperamental. Perhaps you just did something that she didn’t like? Did you step into her wrong?”

“No. I got in her and did everything like I usually do. Something’s seriously up, Allura.” His frustration was clouding his judgement, but once again, all he got was chuckling. Nobody else seemed worried.

“Try talking to her,” he heard Shiro then, his forever stern tone flooding into Keith’s ears and making him grind his teeth.

“Can’t. She went straight to sleep when I was booted out.”

Allura sighed, before a quiet, “I’m coming” escaped and the click of her com turning off followed. He slipped his helm back off, sitting down in front of his lion and stared up.

What other possibilities were there?

Did she sense his dilemma? That wasn’t too terribly convenient. But she should have known exactly who she was allowing to pilot her. She seemed to understand everything else, so why wasn’t this something that had occurred before? Was it just this much more noticeable?

Maybe he smelled. He made himself laugh with that thought.

He sat with his knees up, leaning back, and staring into the lioness’ eyes. “Hey,” he called up. “Wake up. Talk to me.”

Nothing. He figured as much. But he didn’t want to risk going back inside and her becoming more aggressive. So he sighed. “Red. Come on, now. I don’t know what I did to piss you off. You have to let me know these things.”

Silence. He was impatient, and it felt like discovering her all over again. He took a deep breath, exhaled. Swallowed. The longer he sat here by himself the more he felt… weird.

Not really sad. More numb. Maybe it was because he was certain that the only thing on this planet that wouldn’t run away in terror when they saw him was Red. Red was his loyal companion, and he was loyal to her. That was just how it was. She chose him -- out of anyone else in the galaxy, she chose him to pilot her. And now she wasn’t even allowing him inside.

Was he changing that much? It shouldn’t even be this noticeable. Nothing was different except his outward appearance. Did she just get spooked?

He was thinking too much, hands having unconsciously moved to his head and pulling on the strands of hair he had. Tugging, racking his brain for some sort of explanation, when he felt a gentle hand on him. He flipped, quick, drawing out his bayard and priming himself for battle.

But it was simply the princess. The princess who had had a serene look on her face for only a tick prior to Keith’s movements, but now had one of confusion.

Oh, God. He was being found out.

“Wow. Your hair is all over the place.” The comment threw him off guard, and he reached up to touch it, the embarrassment washing over him as he felt how the strands were sticking up in multiple ways. He kind of laughed at her. He didn’t know what else to do. He had been mortified that his skin had changed that quickly.

“Uh, yeah. I didn’t dry it, so shoving the helmet on displaced it.” He answered her with a curt nod, and she just grinned before moving towards Red. She woke up almost immediately, which surprised Keith, but he gave no indication of it.

“Try and get in her again. Then just -- talk to her. Try and figure out what her problem is.”

Keith nodded, his fists clenching repeatedly as he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, and once again entered Red. This time he immediately began to speak, “it’s okay, girl. I’m not gonna do anything bad”. If Red was picking up on what he thought she was, then he definitely needed to let her know.

He waved down to Allura as she walked away, feeling frustrated again. She was too kind. The whole team was, and as time went on he became more and more sick to his stomach with his own identity.

With his own mission.

He sighed, feeling the chair move forward as he leaned to the side and flicked on an overhead light, pulling out a journal from beneath the seat. Several rumpled pages lied within, but he flipped the paper until he was near the back, scrawling bitterly across the aging parchment, hand furious and brows furrowed.

Dates and times of when things began. Dates and times of when he needed to kickstart this. He needed to do it, and do it soon.

He glanced towards his right. The still-image of the message he had received, a threatening purple face of a man with a wicked smirk. His voice rippled through his mind as he imagined it, and he reached, pressing a button and allowing the recording to play.

Over, and over, looped.

_Do it or they die._

The menace in Zarkon’s eyes made chills roll down his spine, and as he glanced up towards the mirror above the glass of Red’s eyes, he saw the violet creeping up his cheek and the yellow begin to pull from the corners of his eyes. This was it.

Either Keith needed to do this right now, or he needed to face his team first.

He took a deep breath, before making sure his communication line was off as he flicked up a switch and punched in coordinates.

The smallest sound of a ring filled the space, the lioness’ growling making Keith ache as he rubbed the interface. “It’s okay, girl. It’s okay.”

The red fluttered across the screen before it became that of a familiar face, one who was serious before his lips curled into a small smile. A smirk, if you will.

“Keith. It looks as if you’re coming back to us. How I’ve missed this. You, with that peachy complexion, was so…. unnatural. This is much better.”

Keith blinked once, twice, before licking his lips. “I called simply to tell you that I can’t hide my identity anymore. I’m going to have to tell the other paladins. With any luck, they won’t be too freaked out about it. I need them to keep trusting me, just for a little while longer. Then the lions are yours.”

Zarkon only grimaced, before a small, “then so be it,” murmured across the screen. Then it flashed back.

Keith hated himself.

* * *

 

His last attempt at concealment was to act like he didn’t notice it was spreading.

He had changed back into his day clothes, as he walked down the bay and into the main hall again. He could hear the chatter, laughter of the other’s, and he had to stop moving. Pressing his back to the wall, hand pressed over his chest.

How could he do this?

This was all he had. His family was just around the corner. The love of his life, his brothers and sisters. They were right there and he had to lie straight to their face. Had to take everything they had from under their nose.

Because if he didn’t, then they’d all die. He’d rather them live and resent him for the rest of their lives than die and he have to go on knowing he could’ve stopped it.

It was probably a bit selfish, but he was.

It took him a long time of standing there to calm down his heart, to make the adrenaline and fear welling up inside of him to settle back down beneath the skin.

He examined his hands, pure violet with long, blackened nails. Lifted his sleeves and saw the spots of his old skin just barely there. Felt like his eyes were focusing in and out. He had to act like this was new. He had to act frightened.

So he replaced his thoughts of calming his nerves with memories that would terrify him.

_The binding feeling of being locked in a prison cell._

_The horror of every day when he would be thrown into the ring, only to lose against the Champion and somehow survive._

_The tapping of boots on metal floors._

_Bright lights._

Even just the thought of it made his heart jump into a salsa dance, twisting and jumping all over in his chest, and his guilt was put aside for the time being as he stumbled into the lounge room, over his own feet, and plummeted to the ground.

It went silent, but he struggled to get up, and the moment his head turned upward he saw the panic in everyone’s eyes. Shiro’s arm immediately activated. Hunk launched himself off of the couch, Lance froze, Coran was watching him with a glint in his eye that he couldn’t quite register.

He arched his back in pain, real pain, as he felt things move in his body that shouldn’t. His howl was ear-shattering, and he heard the commotion of his friends -- his enemies -- as they became more and more concerned.

He tried crawling towards Shiro.

“Get back!” Lance shouted, his foot moving to instantly kick him down in the face. Keith hadn’t expected to be hit, but he slammed down hard enough that his mind went fuzzy, and then he felt a kick to the side that was enough that it could have shattered a bone.

_Was Lance attacking him?!_

“Lance, that’s enough!” Allura shouted over the frantic murmurs of the rest of the crew, before walking towards Keith and kneeling beside him. The look in her eye was indescribable. She had no idea of how to make this out.

Allura twisted her hand to his neck, and then he saw black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was SO EXCITED to write this!!! mainly bc i'm literally so in love with galra keith and tumblr user voltrcn had this amazing idea for a fic and gave me permission to flesh it out, but also because HOLY CROW VOLTRON IS MY LIFE???
> 
> p.s in case you're wondering about the end it's kinda like what alfor did to allura!!!


	2. doubt.

_ Things weren’t going right in his brain. In fact, it was like his synapses weren’t firing right, there was no correlation to any thought or any image dancing within his mind. He was lost in it. Lost in his confusion. _

 

_ The mess that he had found himself swimming in reminded the boy of tar. Thick and black. The only difference was that there was no substance; his eyes were wide open but his movements were sluggish, he could hardly clench his fingers and despite hearing voices clear as day, he couldn’t make out the words or see who was speaking them. _

 

_ He floated like that for a long time. He couldn’t call out to attract the attention of those who were near  _

_ him, and slowly did he feel his limbs become coated in the grossness, climbing up his knees, making it even more difficult to maneuver in this abyss.  _

 

_ He couldn’t remember where he was. Couldn’t remember his name, how old he was, if he had come too this place willingly or not. Every memory was a blur.  _

 

_ Something flickered brightly in front of him at some point. He tried counting minutes and lost track at 4,127. It was like a white screen, the static giving way to a purple hue. The warmth of it heated his skin, melted away the tar, and coaxed him to walk through the screen. A window, not a television like he had thought. At his entrance he felt lighter, able to move correctly and fell onto his knees. _

 

_ Immediately the words became clear. “Get up, stop playing weak.” A hand gripped his underarm and he was forced back to his feet, guided by two men. He was almost being dragged, carried down the hallway, and he was shouting ‘no!’ involuntarily. _

 

_ Was this a memory? _

 

_ Tears had managed to begin streaming down his cheeks, and as he continued to shake his head and feel the immense terror that this moment gave him, he began to recollect himself enough to recall what was happening. What was going to happen. _

 

_ He was redressed into prisoner’s clothing. He could see his robe tossed to the side, the royal jewels scattered around the floor and through blurry vision did he see the door to the arena. Through ears like caves he heard the hollers of excitement from his people. Electricity pulsed through his veins, and it was only a moment later when he was being shoved through the gate and given a sword to fight with. _

 

_ He didn’t want to fight. He didn’t. He was too delicate to. He would surely die if he was forced in this. _

 

_ The glint of a prosthetic and silver hair wrenched his heart so badly that he fell backwards, out of the window, and descended into space once again. _

 

Allura had not left Keith’s side in the five days since she had put him to sleep. Relentlessly pacing the piloting hall, she had watched his transformation from half human into Galra with eyes as wide as a supernova. It was truly incredible how such a thing could occur; Galran technology had to have been much more advanced than previously estimated. She was sitting now, on top of where his pod would go, when she heard the rush of sneakers enter from the hall. Inspired. 

 

“Pidge, what is it?” Her voice flowed as gracefully as ever, even if the slight undertone of exhaustion traced her words and the bags underneath her eyes made her look less like an ethereal princess as days went by. Her companion came and plopped down beside her with her computer, pulling up a launch sequence that she couldn’t decipher.

 

“I still don’t understand English, Pidge,” the murmur was exasperated, but Pidge immediately broke out into conversation.

 

“This is a launch sequence I intercepted from a Galra ship approximately seventeen Earth hours away. They targeted the castle, and launched around four hours ago, and by the way it’s traveling, it should be here within thirty minutes.”

 

“Wait.” Stunned, the Altean stood abruptly, jogging too the control panel and scanning through system updates. Every control and switch for stealth were turned on, including a newly advanced cloaking device that should have left them entirely off the radar, especially if the ship was as far away as she was told it to be. “We are completely hidden from anyone. How could they have found us?”

 

“I don’t know,” she looked towards the ground, feeling the entity within the pod, “probably the traitor.”

 

“Pidge. Be kind. I’ve told you, there must be some sort of explanation for this.” She was hesitant, dragging lithe fingers down the control panel and hanging her head. “Regardless, we need to get out of harm’s way.”

 

She promptly opened the castle’s communications, speaking through a loud microphone, “I need everyone to come to the control deck now!” Her voice shook, and she was beginning to jog around, readying the ship for hyperspeed. In her preparation she knew the paladins would come soon, Coran already there beside her and glancing over her shoulder, furry brows gathering into the center of his forehead and mumbling something low to himself. 

 

Shiro was the first to arrive, as per usual, clad in his armor with the helmet tucked beneath his arm. The bags beneath his eyes are deeper, more purple than Allura’s, the scruff on his chin that he usually keeps clean beginning to form and become more visible as the length grows. He’s scratching at it, hindered by sloth, and sits down beside Pidge. His eyes are wide and looking but he’s inattentive and distant. He’d been that way since Keith’s revelation.

 

Of course nobody blamed him. Everybody loved Keith, trusted him with every fiber of their body, but no one knew him like Shiro did. It was always some sort of deeper connection that had not otherwise been disclosed to the paladins, and Hunk, who was entering now, was becoming more and more determined to find out exactly what was going on between them.

 

Lance didn’t show. But that was to be expected.

 

Allura gave the quick rundown of what was happening, “there’s no need to panic, but hyperspeed can be difficult on bodies that aren’t pre-conditioned to it like you might not be, so there are chairs with belts along the back wall that I ask for you to sit in to make the ride easier for you.” There was temporary worry in Shiro’s eye, “he’ll be fine where he is.”

 

It was a process, but eventually the three remaining paladins found their way to the wall and latched in, the leader resting his head against the panel behind him and fluttering his eyes shut. He definitely wasn’t going to be able to sleep like this, but his lids were burning and the only comfort he got was through closing them, even if his mind was filled to the brim with questions and doubts and terror that he couldn’t rest correctly.

 

Coran made his way back as the princess threw them into the sudden movement, able to see the tossing of the paladin’s and grin only slightly at the girlish screaming he heard. Crossing the castle was easy, and he made his way into Lance’s chamber, seeing him doubled-over and throwing up into a bucket he had kept in his room to clean his shoes with.

 

“Ah, this is why you should’ve come when we called,” his scolding was mild and he stood with his hands folded behind his back, being waved off but planting his feet into the ground. “You know you have to come out of here sometime.”

 

He looked up, wiping at his mouth with his sleeve and glaring behind him, hiccuping once. “I said go, Coran. I said I didn’t want anyone to bother me, did nobody even listen?” 

 

“I listened, but I don’t care.” He was pulling at the edge of his mustache, eyes shut as he felt himself think. “We understand why you’re upset. Everyone is, but--” He was cut off by the incessant dry-heaving of the blue paladin, and decided to walk forward, placing a hand on his shoulder and offering a small grin. “But you still have people who care about you. We all do, and watching you wither away in your sadness pains all of us. Let us help you feel better.”

 

“I’ll feel better once that  _ monster _ is off of this castle.” He wanted to scream, throwing everything he had at Coran, but knew he was only trying to make him happier. He curled up into his knees, and they sat in a long silence. The wheels were turning in the McClain’s head, and he often opened his mouth to speak but then proceeded to close it. He had no clue what to say in this situation.

 

It felt like hours as they were there, with a bucket of space-goo colored vomit about ten feet away, when Lance stood to get on the bed. Then suddenly, the entire corridor shook, and he watched as the wall at the end of the hallway shattered and broke open. With a shout, the two of them were being pulled into the hallway, but with reflexes like a cat did Coran slam his hand down on the button to shut the door, locking them inside and breathing heavily. The horror was displayed equally onto each other’s faces.

 

They were  _ trapped. _

 

* * *

 

“What the Hell was that?!” Pidge was calling out, hyperspeed coming to a halt and she jostled out of the belts, jumping up and running towards the big blinking red light on the holographic screen. B Hall was completely torn open by some sort of explosion, and a quick diagnostic revealed it had been  _ another missile  _ they had accidentally passed in the process of escaping from the first one. “That’s where Lance is!” She was screaming it, dropping everything and beginning to run down the hall. “We have to get to them!”

 

“Pidge!” Shiro was out now, moving to pace the small girl, gripping onto her shoulders and halting her pace. “Running into that situation is a bad idea. Allura, we need to land. Somewhere. It’s the only thing to do.”

 

And in some time during this panic, an unfamiliar figure toppled out of the healing pod, and he was choking on a scratchy throat, “if we land, they’ll get us.”

 

There was silence.

 

Allura disregarded what he said, immediately changing their course for a nearby moon. Uninhibited, seemingly safe, but the rapid red sensors began to get louder and filled the room with crimson light, and the giant of a paladin made his way towards her and gripped her hands. 

 

“You cannot land this castle.” The unfamiliar growl caused a temporary pause, the flit of terror coming across her face, but the intensity in the yellowed irises of Keith forced her mind into scrutiny. 

 

“He’s only saying that so that we’ll be killed!” Pidge jumped in, leaping in Keith’s direction but held back in the air by the grip of Shiro, who cradled her in his chest and stared at him with an indistinguishable emotion. There was mumbling from where he had covered Pidge’s mouth, struggling from the smallest paladin, a bayard that had come undone and was threatening to chop off a finger if he didn’t let her go.

 

“I think we should trust him.” Hunk’s voice was a whisper, and the castle shook underneath another blow. They were looking around frantically. “If he’s Galra, and if he really doesn’t know what’s going on like he said when we first saw him, then maybe he knows what’s going on. Maybe he can stop it.”

 

“Thank you, Hunk.” Keith nodded towards him, dropping the Princess’ hands and taking a step backward. “I need to get to Red. Don’t ask questions, I just have to do this.”

 

Another mumbled shout from Pidge. Keith did a mental roll call. “Where’s Lance and Coran?”

 

He wasn’t given an answer, and his stomach crawled from it. He simply shook his head, gnawed on his teeth, and took to jogging. Towards the tower that hid Red, but he wasn’t going to suit up. If he did that, then they’d truly think he was going to abandon them.

 

Not yet.

 

It took him a moment to realize that Hunk was tailing behind him. He turned, his ears pressing against his head, and looked him up and down. There was obviously fear radiating from him, but his face was stern and determined, and Keith noted to give him slack. He stared, then sighed, gesturing for him to continue following him.

 

“Lance has been locked in his room since Allura put you to sleep.” The information was sudden, but he didn’t stop running, sliding down the shaft with Hunk near his back and nodding once. He wasn’t sure if he should feel upset by that, or comforted. So he didn’t have a reaction.

 

“He’s been scared.” He pressed. “We all have been. You just sort of -- you changed. And we don’t know if you knew it was going to happen or not. Pidge thinks you’ve always been this way. But Shiro insists that you haven’t, that he’s known you for too long to know if you were really Galra.”

 

“You’re all wrong.” He didn’t expand on his statement. 

 

“Wrong how?” Hunk’s voice was deep and stern, reminiscent to their leader, and it actually forced Keith to slow and eventually stop moving. He didn’t turn to face him. “Tell me exactly how we’re wrong. Because I don’t get it. I don’t get how we could be wrong about somebody we all love, how every assumption has been wrong.” It physically pained him to hear this. His chest was tightening, but he balled up his fists and cut his palms with his nails, swiveling around on his heel with his brows knitted together.

 

He was bearing his teeth. “Does it even matter? Does it? Because the more I look at this situation, the more I observe and process how everyone is acting around me, I’m nothing more than a traitor either way.” He was advancing, and Hunk took a single step back. “Do not stand there and say you all love me. Because if you did, you wouldn’t be so hesitant. You wouldn’t have looked at me the way you had, and don’t you  _ dare _ try and say that Lance loves me still. He wouldn’t have hurt me if he did.”

 

“He didn’t mean to--” 

 

“That’s bullshit and we both know it.” He snapped his teeth, now face-to-face with the taller paladin, nostrils flared. “You want to know the truth so badly, huh? Well, here it is. I’m  _ bad _ . And I’ve always been bad. Even before this all started, when Shiro’s mother took me in off the street, raised me as her own. Even when Shiro disappeared and I dropped out of the garrison. I wasn’t searching for him; I knew exactly where he was. I  _ followed _ him back to Earth from that ship. I’ve always known who you and Lance and Pidge were. I always have. I’ve always had a vendetta.”

 

He could see the fear and anger and sorrow welting in the yellow paladin’s eyes, and he took a step backward, turned again. “Now, if you don’t want to end up being blown into space, you’ll let me go to Red. I’m not going to attack anybody. I could’ve for months now and I haven’t.”

 

He began to jog again, and all he heard was Hunk call after him, “it sure does make me wonder why not.”

 

Keith ignored his words, and forced his way into Red. She definitely did not like that, was growling and hissing in his mind (the idea of him being thrown off into the void being placed prominently in his head and him only smiling at her threat), petting his paw on his way in.

 

“It’s okay, girl. This attack wasn’t my fault, but we’re gonna fix it. Okay? Ready for a trip?”

 

But he looked in the mirror, and his heart sank. Purple was splattered across the skin he preferred, had bathed him and stained him with the sin of his betrayal. He couldn’t breathe.

 

Keith couldn't look himself in the eye. He was a monster. He would always be one. He should have allowed himself to fly off into the nothingness of space when he had the chance. Maybe then, he'd belong somewhere. With the cosmic dust and the burning of stars, the recreation of planets and the serenity of never knowing and never caring about what lays beyond.   
  
Maybe then he wouldn't be so alone.

 

He sat there, looking at his hands and losing himself in his pity when the castle took another blow. The entire hangar shuddered from the impact and Red activated without being told to do so, crashing her way through the upper panel to hover above the ship below. She was primed and ready to attack. 

 

Keith wasn’t. He had his hands on the controls but he was frozen. She took it into her own claws to do the job, firing into the distance and hitting one of the drone ships. With one’s debris scattering across the star system, the purple glow of a video call began to his right.

 

He accepted it, already looking angry, immediately shouting, “stop attacking! Halt fire!”

 

“You hadn’t responded to us in days. Hadn’t checked in, we were only following your orders.” The voice was echoing across the intercom as Red blasted another missile out of the sky, “That is what we were told to do. Where have you been?”

 

“Compromised. But I’m obviously fine now and ready to do my job, so stop attacking.” He was hissing it between his teeth, his lion hopping through space and biting down on a drone ship. He glanced down to see the castle veering towards the moon again, and though he didn’t approve, it appeared this would be the only way they could get out of the line of fire.

 

“I’m afraid we can’t stop.” Another ship came towards him, and Red leaped on top, clawing her way across it and he watched the various explosions tearing it apart. He pulled the handles back and she paused, twisting to look for the bigger ship. He couldn’t. Two more drones came.

 

“That is an order! Cease fire!” He watched as another projectile went hurdling towards the Altean palace, and he was quick to grip it in his lion’s jaw, snapping it in half and withstanding the fire that came with it. They were injured. 

 

Another lion came from the moon’s surface, slick and black, and quickly dispatched the remaining ships. There was a laugh across his video stream, “still compromised?” before it cut out.

 

He stayed hovering in the vacuum of space, facing the larger ship, in silence. Red was wavering, purring through his ears to urge him to land and allow her to recuperate, but he couldn’t do that yet.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Shiro’s voice was pained, quiet, husky. Almost like it hadn’t been used in a long time, and Keith didn’t have an answer for him. The truth was that he had no choice. But even if he could have, he wouldn’t. Telling your brother that you were an alien would have landed you in a mental institution, especially if you pressed and pressed the subject.

 

“You had so many opportunities. Why didn’t you tell  _ anybody _ ? I would have expected to be the first to know, but instead, I’m one of the last. You couldn’t have even given me the benefit of the doubt that I might believe you. You couldn’t even say a single word to me about this! I can guarantee that you know way more about this than you’re letting on.”

 

“Are you calling me a traitor?”

 

“... Yeah. I am.”

 

That stung. That stung too much, and he tensed in his seat, ears drooping. 

 

“I didn’t think you would think that of me, too. I was hoping you wouldn’t. I was hoping that you would… that you would help me. Help me explain to the others why I’m doing what I am, why I’m--”

 

“Why would I trust you? You’ve been lying to me our whole lives together. You save us from a few drone Galra ships and suddenly everything is okay? No. I don’t want you anywhere near Voltron. Get out of your lion.”

 

“What?!” Keith shouted, and surprisingly, so did Red. She roared at the idea of him hurling off into space, and he realized that she was the only one allowed to think that. Even if she was wary of him, she was still loyal. He could respect that.

 

“I said, get out of your lion. You’re not worthy of the title of paladin anymore.” He watched the black lion grow to hover like it was standing on her back paws, it’s mouth drop open, and a beam of light begin to form at the back of her throat.

 

He didn’t have anytime to react before the ray was hurdling towards him, and he twirled out of the way, unsure of what to do. Out of control now, he was floating, and he had to rely on his lion’s quick reflexes to get him back on track. He turned, blasting his way to the dark side of the moon they were above, and yellowed tears were dripping from the rims of his eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

Once the castle landed, Lance and Coran were able to feel stable enough to stand back up. They had sat down in order to keep from being thrown around his room, and Lance made his way to the door, pressing his face to the frosted glass and trying to see into the hallway. There was no possible way he could, not with the way the door was decorated, but he tried anyway. 

 

Coran piped up, with his hand on his head, sighing heavily. “I assume we landed somewhere. Maybe they’ll come and get us, now.”

 

“Coran, what’s the likelihood that this moon has breathable air? Do you think I need to put on my helmet?” He then glanced back at him, looking more concerned. “What about you? How are you going to breath when we get out of here? I can almost promise you that we’re going to be stuck in this room for a while.”

 

“Well, we’re going to run out of air in here soon either way. So I would put on your armor, get suited up, and head out of here. Get to the princess and make sure she’s okay, that’s my priority.” He was nodding with almost every syllable, and Lance could see how hard he was working to try and not he too concerned for his own wellbeing, but still knew he was. There was no possible way that he wasn’t scared for himself right now.

 

But Lance obeyed, got into his armor as quickly as he could to keep from Coran getting too uncomfortable (while enduring a long speech about how seeing another being wasn’t as uncomfortable for Alteans as it was for humans, that it was way more common than humans would think), standing beside the door panel.

 

“Are you sure?” Lance was fidgeting. He was aching to get out of this room and do something more productive than just sitting in here and waiting for help, but he was worried about leaving him all alone. There was no telling how much air was still in the room or how fast it would be for him to get another suit down here for him. But Coran retaliated with doing something he didn’t expect at all. He  _ shrank _ .

 

He became roughly two feet tall, a smiling, two foot tall man-child. Lance was staring in both awe and mild disturbance, one brow raised way up high on his forehead. “Why’ja do that?”

 

“Why, I won’t need as much oxygen if me -- and my lungs -- are tiny!” He boasted it, voice the same but body not matching it and only making Lance more queasy. “It gives us more time to figure out how to get me out of here, too. So hurry up! Get out there and find the princess!”

 

He stood and stared for another second before shrugging and making his way out of the chamber as quickly as possible. He slammed the door shut, feeling the soft tug of air being pulled from B hall, and had to hold the grapples on the wall to make his way down it.

 

It took him what felt like hours to literally climb his way up the castle into a new area, where he could slip in, shut the door, and gravity could take over. “Allura?!” He screamed it out, and began his assumingly futile run through the castle, repeating her name like a mantra. 

 

His thoughts weren’t on the task at hand, but on Keith. Had this been because of him?

 

He tucked that away for now. He could be mad at him all he wanted later.

 

He paced the hallways, tried to picture the map of the place, and found his way into the control panel after too much jogging that he was out of breath and doubled over, holding his knee and the wall. The remaining paladins were quick to surround him, Hunk ‘woo-hoo’ing at his arrival, picking him up and swinging him in circles. “You’re alive!”

 

“So’s Coran! But we need to get him out, and quick, before --”

  
He spotted the open healing pod and his heart shattered into more pieces that there were stars in the universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS SEEMS RUSHED AND IT SORT OF WAS BC IT'S BEEN WAY TOO DAMN OVERDUE FOR A CHAPTER UPDATE but hi!!! i hope y'all are having a good monday and here's some angst !!!!!! THINGS ARE GONNA START HEATIN UP REAL QUICK


	3. Treachery

Keith sat on the floor of his cockpit, his head in between two hands and sobs racking through his entire body. The fact that he was feeling such emotion in this situation was making him more and more upset, and as he tugged on the tufts of hair he had on his temples, he cursed Shiro’s name. And Zarkon. And Lance, Pidge, Hunk, Coran, Allura. Voltron as a whole had torn him apart, and because of this stupid fucking mission, this stupid fucking body, he lost the only people he knew actually loved him. It was worthless. He was. And he didn’t know what to do at this point.

  
The tears fell down his cheeks so heavily he thought he was going to drown in them. His head was unscrewed, and he glanced up to look into the recently shattered mirror above Red’s eyes. There was still specks of yellow blood in the crevices of it, along his knuckles where he had punched it in a fit of rage.  
He wanted to die right then and there, and could, but he wasn’t that desperate. Not yet.

  
Keith managed to bring himself up onto shaking legs, wander towards the seat and sit down in it cross-legged with his face in the dashboard. He was leaned almost completely over, like a contortionist, just trying to catch his breath at this point.

  
There was something he needed to do.

  
There was absolutely no way he could ever go back to the team now.

  
“Red,” he murmured, his voice thick with sadness and clogged from his sobbing. Raw. He cleared his throat, wiped a tear with the heel of his palm, and sniffed hard again. “Red, why am I like this?”

  
He didn’t get a verbal response. Just the purring in his head as usual, and the thoughts that entered his mind weren’t hostile. Not much, at least. She was definitely upset with him for making her fight that fight alone, but maybe the mechanical lion had some sort of emotion in her because she was trying to comfort him. She brought him back memories of the first few times they’d ever flown together, specifically when he took a nosedive and plummeted straight into Arus sand. He laughed gently.

  
It almost sounded like her purring were words, but he knew that that was just the idea being imputed into his head. She was saying something about how this was just a consequence of a bad decision, that he shouldn’t have taken that leap but he did anyway. He wasn’t entirely at fault, and she knew that; she was the one who got every single message from Zarkon, after all. But he had a duty to protect Voltron and he threw that away to save the paladins.

  
A noble act, she knew, but she couldn’t forgive him, and it only made Keith hurt more. His ears plastered to his head, he fumbled with the controls to send a call to the Blue Lion.

  
There was no answer and that was to be expected, but a sort of video-mail was able to be sent. And the first few seconds, if not minute, of that message was his sobbing. Loud and hard, tearing at his hair again, trying to collect himself enough to speak.

  
“Lance,” he whispered it, “Lance. I’m -- I’m so sorry. I know sorry isn’t going to make up for this. But I am. I wouldn’t -- I wouldn’t have let anything bad happen to you if it was my choice. It was my choice to hide this from you all, but I had to. If you didn’t trust me… If you didn’t trust me, then you’d throw me out. And don’t act like you wouldn’t have.”

  
He was rubbing his bare elbows, not looking into the screen to see himself. He still couldn’t. He was disgusting and he was aware of that. He was aware how he looked, and maybe it was the grief and distress and sickness he felt in his gut that he decided not to admire the violet that he had cherished for years, but he wanted to peel it off. Like glue and food dye, shed it off like a snake, molt like a bird. He wanted it off and he was subconsciously scratching his bone over and over again until his skin bled. He didn’t take note of it.

  
“I’m… not coming back. To Voltron. I’m going to have a ship come and pick me up, and I’m putting Red in her force field so she won’t be taken, either. And I suppose I might as well tell you all what I needed to do.

  
Take it. The whole thing, all of the lions. I was supposed to collect them. Gain your trust, lure you into a sector of space with a fake distress call, and let the Galra have it. I say the Galra as if I’m not one,” he sniffed again, laughed humorlessly, “I very much am. If you couldn’t tell with the way I look. I’m Galra and I always have been, even when Shiro and I were just kids. They took me in, raised me like their own, after I was unceremoniously dropped off on their porch. You see… Zarkon has known when the new paladins were going to come. He knew it. He knew all of it.

  
His plan for me, the only reason I exist was to lead you all to Voltron. When Shiro went off to the Kerberos mission and announced dead, I was taken back. Turned back. The Quintessence -- it keeps us this way. At least me. I’m some disgusting, mutating, genetic creation. Just the smallest dose of it will make me turned back, and that’s why I was so scared when it exploded on me back at central base. Back before this all happened.”

  
He was starting to run out of time for this video. He smiled at him with all the tears finally dry, though he felt the strongest pain in his chest still. He wasn’t going to be okay after this.

  
“My job was to lead Voltron to the Galra empire. And I succeeded. Even if I told you the truth and that I was having so many second thoughts, I know you won’t believe me. You’re stubborn like that.” He took a deep breath, pushing his hands between his thighs and rubbing them together. “I’m sorry, Lance. I really do love you. And Shiro, and the rest of Voltron. You’re all my family -- despite how much damage I’ve done. And I know you won’t, but I still ask for your forgiveness.”

  
The video cut out then.

  
He felt numb from the shoulders down, his head like it was going to explode from the feeling of regret and betrayal he knew everyone felt. They all probably regretted ever wanting anything to do with him. He was an abomination. He belonged with the cosmic dust.

  
He stood up, and moved to a back cabinet that he usually kept snacks in on long journeys. At the very back of it, the fake bottom popped off, and he was able to pull out a set of clothes. A long tunic and a pair of black pants, like leggings, he replaced his current attire with the last thing he wore before he was put back on Earth -- his battle armor.

  
Galran, of course, with large shoulder pads and a chest plate, glowing that ugly color and powering himself up. His gauntlets her heavier than he remembered, and the cape he attached to his collar draped far behind him. He always thought he looked ridiculous in this, but if that was what needed to be worn in order to be taken seriously, then that was what he was going to do.

  
He placed a bubbled helmet over his head to keep the air inside, so he wouldn’t suffocate the moment he got off this ship. This haven. The last place he knew he was safe, because he was well aware a severe punishment was going to be awaiting him when he got home.

  
He powered up his video messaging system once more, sent a simple message of his coordinates, activated Red’s force field on a timer and walked off. He stood outside, watched the large red sphere encompass his lion, and the purring returned to his mind. A goodbye.

  
The moon shook.

* * *

 

Lance was staring longingly at the pod, but still scared. That meant that Keith was wandering around completely unattended, could be wreaking havoc and they were all in the control room. That made his stomach seize up, twist, and he felt like he was going to vomit. Again.

  
What was more important? Saving Coran’s life, or saving the lives of the entire universe?

  
His entire body was bristling, and he was beginning to sweat again. The best course of action now would be to split up, to get Coran to a suit that’s good enough while the castle did it’s repairs. But he felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped, twirling around with a fist raised. It was caught by one of metal.

  
“Lance. You’re okay. Everyone’s safe -- he’s not coming back.”

  
“What?”

  
“Keith left. He’s on the other side of the moon, and he’s going to stay there. He’s not permitted to be anywhere near us, and I assume he’ll phone in for someone to come and get Red when he’s done.”

  
Lance was distant again. Emotionally and physically, but he wasn’t going to comment on this situation right now. He needed to have time to think about that, but if it was true, then they had to get to Coran. And fast.

  
He began moving around, speaking primarily to Allura. “All of B hall is blown out. Coran is in my room, about yey-tall,” he measured to roughly his upper thigh, “and just as weird as usual. So, we need to get to him quick! Oxygen’s running out and I think it’s safe to assume that this place’s air composition is less than what we need.”

  
Allura nodded, rushing towards the hallway before stopping in her tracks. “Lance, is there a big enough hole to get Blue through and up to your door?”

  
“I don’t think so. Maybe Pidge can, though. The Green Lion is smaller.” Pidge was looking at her hands when she was addressed, scratching the back of her neck. “Yeah, I think the hole’s big enough for her.”

  
Pidge stood up, holding herself against the wall and pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I can see what I can do. Shiro, come with me?”

  
“Good plan. I can help maneuver you through the hall so you don’t wreck or make it any worse.”

  
Lance watched as the two went running down the corridor, and his heart melted. He sank to his knees, cupping his head in his hand and viciously pulling off his helmet, chucking it in an unknown direction. Hunk was the first to come to his side, actually picking him up bridal style and sitting against the wall with his best friend cradled in his arms.

  
He didn’t say anything. Just let Lance grunt and try and calm himself down. He wasn’t crying, which was a little confusing for him, but Hunk figured that it hurt a lot for this to happen. He’d have reacted the same way if he was in that situation.

  
“You know,” Allura’s voice startled the both of them, having sat down beside the two while they were lost in thought, “Keith is doing the right thing. Right now, at least. It’s best for him to leave and take a break before he comes back and confronts us about his choices.” Her voice was calm, and it made Lance bristle.

  
“Aren’t you upset? You let Keith into this team, into this home and family, and he turned out to be just like the people who completely destroyed your planet! Your civilization! You do realize that Coran and you are the last Alteans, right?”

  
“Of course I do.” She was frowning, looking upwards and watching the shift of the stars, the soft violet in the distance and the remnants of the drone ships. “But I’m not upset. Keith… he’s done a lot for us. He saved our lives, he helped bring us all together in ways we didn’t imagine. He genuinely cares for us and his actions reflect it. We’ve been together almost an Earth year now, you realize that? Almost a full year, and in that time, he could have killed us all. He could have led Zarkon to us much before he turned back, but instead, he let love blossom in his heart and became the man he is today.”

  
Her speech was heartwarming to hear, but it only made Lance cold. His fingertips were red, his cheeks burning from left-over rage, though now soaked with tears as he silently mourned for the loss of his friend. The only person he had ever loved as much as he loved Keith.

  
“I don’t blame Keith for what happened. And I don’t think Keith really wants to do what he’s doing.”

  
“You don’t know that for sure. He could have said no to the mission from the get-go!”

  
“We don’t know that.” She turned to peer at him, placing a hand on his stomach and looking at him with slight concern, but an understanding quirk of a brow.

  
“She’s right,” Hunk chirped in, “knowing the Galra, if he had said no, they probably would have killed him right away. And for all we know, he did try. And they didn’t let him back out.”

  
“We don’t know anything about him anymore. We don’t even know if his name is actually Keith. It could be something completely different! Like… Anthrax, or something.”

  
“Anthrax is a disease.”

  
“So’s Zarkon.”

  
Hunk mulled that over, then discarded the thought. Lance was being Lance. “Look. All we’re saying is that you can’t be too upset for what he’s done until we can hear his side of the story. And if it turns out that he did it because he wanted to, then, we’ll be right beside you in hating him.”

  
“And I’m sure we’re not the only ones --”

  
There was a small rumble from within the castle walls. They paused their conversation, having momentarily forgotten about Shiro and Pidge’s plan. Lance stopped fussing over Keith’s predicament. “I hope he’s still alive.”

* * *

 

  
Getting the Green Lion into the area wasn’t as big of a hassle as Pidge had suspected it to be. Luckily enough, it had fit almost perfectly, and Shiro had to do little to no instructing from the outside. Once back into the cockpit of the lion, they were able to move forward, passed the debris, and make their way towards Coran.

  
“Lance is taking Keith’s disappearance rather well,” Shiro quipped, his arms crossed and vision distant. “I expected an explosion.”

  
“I know you know Lance, but I was in his team back in the Garrison. I can guarantee you, one is coming.” She glanced back at him from her lion’s rearview mirror. “Trust me. The only reason he hasn’t totally freaked is because one of us is in danger. He always manages to put his feelings on the backburner in order to help others.”

  
That was true, and Shiro accepted it as fact. He slid down the wall and pressed his head to the wall as Pidge slowed, stopped the lion. “I’ll be back. I’m going to get Coran.”

  
She paused, grabbing the helmet and oxygen tank that Allura had suggested to take, and tying the long cord to her waist before escaping out the chest of her mech.

  
Pidge climbed off the ramp, jogging towards the frosted glass door where the Altean had plastered his face against in an attempt to peer outward.

  
She waved towards him. He was a bit shorter than Lance had described, and she assumed it was due to him needing more oxygen. His face was slightly purple, and she waved him away from the door, raising her bayard and slicing a circle into the glass. She immediately shoved the helmet onto his head, punched the right button, and began carrying (yes, and bridal style, too) him back to the lion.

  
It was a lot easier than they expected. Once they were safely back in the ship, Coran removed the hood, took a big gasp of air, and exclaimed in his whimsical way, “that was one damn good breath of oxygen right there!”

  
Shiro was grinning, and yet the happiness of him being safe was short-lived when a loud whirring noise came to their attention. He glanced about, before noticing the bright, red alarm lights flickering across Green’s screen, and Pidge jumped into the pilot’s seat to investigate.

  
“Another ship?” She whispered, brushing her fingers down the hologram, and as she was about to press the button to identify just where the trouble was, her lion began to float.

  
Astounded they all swung backwards, Green roared, and Shiro’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. The tractor beam from the Galran ship was streaming straight at them through the gaping hole they’d come from, and even though the lion went on auto-pilot and began to fight back, she seemed powerless to the mightiness of the technology her opponent weld. Thrashing barely, and Pidge becoming so scared she was shaking in her armor, they all jumped when a voice cut through their panic.

  
“Champion,” the familiar lavender hued being appeared across where Green’s eyes should be, “it’s good to have you back.”

  
The tractor beam seemed to speed up, and Pidge frantically slammed her fists down to activate the communications that weren't in working order. The beam had drawn all power from the lion, and the three Defenders were caught, horrified, and sick to their stomachs.

* * *

 

  
Lance thought it’d be a good thing to take a ride in Blue. Both because he needed to clear his mind, but also because he felt the need to find Keith and the truth. He had left Allura and Hunk to socialize in the control room, while he wandered off almost undetected, skipping his attire and approaching the lion in his bay. Usually he didn’t do this because Blue didn’t seem to enjoy it, but today she opened right up for him, and it almost escaped him that she could feel his emotions, too.

  
He wandered up into his chair where he was pushed forward, and he simply asked her where to take him. The other side of the moon. And then leaned his head onto his inner elbows.

  
She didn’t budge. They sat, still, until her soft purring prompted him to go into his inbox, where two messages were stored. The lions couldn’t move unless they had been seen, which was an awful bug that Pidge needed to correct. The first was from Keith.

  
He didn’t think he ever moved his hands so quickly in his entire life as he scrambled to play the video, and the face that appeared on the screen was not his boyfriend’s. He paused it entirely. Stared at his face. It was covered; the mass of purple had spread onto his cheeks and forehead and nose and he could only assume it was like a wildfire, rapid and untamed. He seemed genuinely concerned when he had stumbled in onto them, and the pained look on his face read the same way. Though he cringed, recalling how he had beat him while he was down, and couldn’t bring himself to see the rest of the video. He drafted it for later.

  
The second message confused him slightly, as it read THACE. He didn’t know a Thace, and he didn’t think a Thace knew him, but obviously they at least knew the Blue Lion and knew it was being piloted again.

  
Thace sounded like a disease. This was probably Galra.

  
“Lance McClaine,” it ran chills down his spine, and he straightened his back, suddenly feeling like a man caught in the hypnosis of a cobra, sang up from it’s basket and used to lure in for a terror unknown. “I’ve been told a lot about you. However, this isn’t a… social matter. I have called to inform you that we have captured the Green, Yellow, and Red lions -- thanks to your friend. I hope you come to your senses and bring the last two lions, instead of fighting our advances.”

  
The broadcast cut out, and in his frozen state, the lion finally kicked into gear. Her course was set towards the one person he didn’t want to see.

  
Towards a possible tractor beam.

  
And yet he couldn’t bring himself to reach for the brake, couldn’t bring himself to do anything but look off into the distance of space as the Lion leapt towards her destination, his mouth still agape and his head a flurry of horrible insinuations.

  
Thanks to your friend. That could only mean Keith. Keith sold them out. If he was so scared and frustrated by this “sudden” transformation, he wouldn’t have done that. He wouldn’t. Keith was a better person than that -- or, at least, Lance thought he was.

  
Keith wasn’t on the other side of the moon. And neither was the lion. Which could mean three things -- one, the bitch actually did give the empire his lion and jeopardized the entire universe. Two, Shiro had been wrong, and Keith never landed here in the first place. And three, he’d been tricked into thinking he was safe and kidnapped.

  
Kidnapped. They had the Green Lion. Shiro, Coran, and Pidge were inside.

  
He felt his heart pound in his chest, and had to grab it in a feeble attempt to keep it from popping out of his ribcage and plummeting to the surface of the moon. He felt sick. He let this happen.

  
Even if that big gaping hole in the chamber wasn’t his fault, he let them go. That made it his mess to clean up.

  
The princess had Hunk to keep her safe. So Lance brought up his courage, rubbed his nose, and gave Blue a smile. “Ready to go kick some Galran ass?” He affectionately questioned her and gained a roar in return, and he thrust the boosters, veering off to the left and making a U-Turn at Warp speed to catch back to the ship, still hovering above the castle.

  
The tractor beam was still out, just as he had assumed. He didn’t exactly have a plan; he always did, but not right now. He flew right into the beam. That would give them four of five lions, but with any luck, he could free one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he's not sorry and neither am i.


	4. clementines.

As Lance sat in his lion and in that tractor beam, he began to rethink his decision.

Primarily because he knew he was an impulsive person -- running himself into that spaceship was the last thing he should have done. It left Allura and Hunk by themselves, defenseless if the ship decided to try and take them, too. He let them take almost all of Voltron just so he could help three people, and did it by himself. The smarter thing would be to bring Hunk along, but instead he went by himself.

He groaned in a mixture of vex, dread, and sadness, stripping off his jacket and rubbing his hands together. Something was being said by the enemy ship, but he paid no mind. He had to prepare himself for the encounter.

He knocked his foot forward, opening a small drawer in Blue and withdrawing his bayard, slipping it into the waistband of his pants. He ran around rather frantically, shoving things into his coat pocket he thinks he’d need -- a box of matches, a small pocket knife in case his gun fails, a piece of gum. He didn’t really have much, but the lion rocked and roared as they were boarded, and he was becoming increasingly anxious. 

He tugged back on his jacket, patted Blue’s interface and softly whispered, “we’ll be okay, girl,” before moving to the edge. He let the door open and watched as he was swarmed, his hands up and near his head, four sentries placed with guns up towards him and three more approaching.

There was a lot of yelling but his head was swimming. Being led off the ramp, his knees were immediately kicked from the back and he fell forward, startled by the action but keeping his face stone hard. No sign of weakness. If this had been planned better, he would’ve opened fire as soon as the ramp opened. But Lance didn’t plan, and it was too late to go on the fly.

“Surrender any weapons.” The voice was so robotic that it sickened him, and he shoved his nose into the air. “Surrender any weapons. Failure to cooperate will result in force.”

“Result in force. What are you going to do,  _ annoy  _ me to death?” He was scoffing and the gun pressed into his back. He could hear a click. “Okay. Okay, it’s in my jeans. Let me grab it.”

Lance should’ve planned to at least  _ not  _ be impulsive. He should’ve followed his inner monologue, and not gone off on the fly, because he was whipping out his bayard and before it could even fully transform he was rolling over to kick away the gun near him.

One shot to the sentries head and it fell over. One shot to his wrist and his gun was gone, searing pain running up into him and he cried out at the feeling. Blood dribbled from the wound and he was scared he lost a finger, but a quick glimpse proved he was fine. Just a deep graze.

But now the robot freaks were hovering over him and he felt a foot on his chest, his ears blaring at a unison of voices and a gun being thrusted towards his face before a voice rang through the hall.

“I believe I said no harm must come to the paladin.” 

He couldn’t much turn his head to see around the legs of the sentries, but as he craned and the aggressive growl of whatever thing had spoken pierced through the shouting, he was able to catch a glimpse of Galra armor.

They backed off and he scrambled to his feet, bayard well out of the way, and cradling his injured hand. He paid no mind, staring straight at his captor and feeling… almost  _ astonished _ . 

It was Galra -- he couldn’t tell the sex by the voice, slightly high-pitched. Short, approximately to his chest, with enough fur along it’s face to make him look more like an abominable snowman than an alien. A fuzzball had been the one to capture him and his friends?

He scoffed at the sight as the creature approached, hands tucked behind his back. “Lance. Follow me.” And it turned, just as the A.Is pushed him along to follow.

They trekked, Lance in a proud silence as he surveyed his surroundings, attempting to map the hallways into his mind. They were nightly purple, illuminated red with the smell of cleaning supplies and vanilla extract. Scratches and bullet holes were scattered about the walls, deep, like some sort of large animal had tried to escape it like a cage. The way was winding; approximately five times they turned right, then three to the left, and soon the walls began to become lighter. More violet, and the bright red smoothly melted into a crimson. Doors lined every side of them, and he could hear to muted groans of prisoners, and his mind wandered to which of these contained Pidge. Which contained Shiro, and Coran. And if Keith was there, too.

He came to the realisation that Shiro might be freaking out. A lot. There were plenty of signs of PTSD in their trusted leader, and being trapped within a small cell again would definitely trigger some sort of attack in him, would force him to think that everything was against him. And he quietly wished that he didn’t become corrupt the way he had been before.

They took another left, entering a room with what seemed like a shower pod. The Galra was standing on the outside, instructing them in some sort of language he hadn’t heard before, and watched as he walked away.

“Blue Paladin, remove your clothing.”

“I’m sorry --  _ what? _ ” He wasn’t sure he heard it right. But a sharp jab to his side remedied his doubt. “Woah, watch it with that thing! Why do I have to get  _ naked _ ?!” 

“Protocol. All prisoners must be sanitized, vaccinated, and clothed properly.” He was struck again and he wobbled forward, “failure to cooperate will result in force.”

He was over fighting. Especially because, now, he was formulating a plan. It was probably too late for one, but now he knew that if he went along with it, he could search better. He could figure it out. And something told him that he was going to get a visit from his new best friend.

So he sighed, shrugging off his coat and pants and shirt, kicking off his shoes and pulling off socks before attempting to climb in. A beep sounded, and he assumed it was some sort of sound from the machine. “Completely.”

And so with hardly any shred of dignity left, he stripped his boxers off and clamoured into the shaft.

As soon as the door shut it began to fog up. That same smell of vanilla and 409 filled his nostrils, and he coughed, before a gigantic sort of red sludge plummeted from the ceiling onto him. He couldn’t breathe. He froze, feeling his throat itch, before the horror of what was  _ really _ going on hit him like a freight train.

_ He was being eaten alive. _

He tried his best to start wiping it off, his skin searing as he felt the tug on every inch of him, and he knew that this had to be it. That they hadn’t led him to some sort of cleaning deck. That it was a torture chamber, and he had willingly walked in. 

Lance has a terrible habit of jumping to conclusions and that’s exactly what he does. His panicked, oxygen-deprived brain has him praying to Space Gods to forgive him for his sins when it all melts into him, dripping through his flesh and tinting it red. Water then pours, and he feels multiple jabs in his skin, and within those following seconds is he shoved on the opposite side of the shaft.

He’s shivering, wet, cold, and  _ mortified _ . He really thought he was going to die, and in his disorientation he doesn’t make out the Galra now standing in front of him, Lance in all his glory. The sound of a clear throat stirs him and he shamefully cups himself.

“Genitalia doesn’t offend me,” he’s still so confused on who this is, “here. These are your clothing for the time being. Your others will be stored on request from someone special. Once you get dressed, follow me.”

Their eyes never leave him. He’s uncomfortably moving around, the ragged uniform in his hands, and eventually makes it to changing. He doesn’t want to wear it. It’ll look bad on him and he’ll look  _ owned _ and he doesn’t want that. But every second he stands naked is another second of awkward silence between the two beings, another second of not knowing what’s going on with his comrades, and he can’t risk delaying anymore. He needs to do this.

He feels clunky but follows after the small alien, his hand touching the wall. Things seem oddly normal, almost like he’s not even a prisoner. Just a guest. And he doesn’t like it.

He’s led past a large opening, and his first thought jumps to a colloseum. The seats wind all along the edge of the room, and he can see the rows and rows of people in stands. His stomach twists as he notices the chained beast in the center, but shadows clothe it in darkness to keep his wary eye from identifying it correctly.

He decides to not think about it.

“Where are you taking me?” His voice is small and timid, his eyes downcast to his once wounded hand. It was beautifully put back together, with stitches having come out of nowhere and fixed him up. He gained no answer from the one he followed. It aggravated him, but he decided to not put up a fight.

As they continued down the corridor, his chest grew tighter and his head throbbed more, exhausted him, and by the time they reached the end he had to hold himself up with his hand. His vision was doubled; Lance’s first thought was that he had been drugged at some point. Maybe it was the immunization they had supposedly pumped into his system.

At the end of the hall were three cells. Glass covered the door, frosted like the ones in the Castle of Lions, and he felt almost breathless as he tried to guess which cell held each of his friends.

They paused in the center of the room, round with five total doors on the perimeter. Four sentries guarded the four, one left alone at the far left. A podium was placed in front of him, and Lance glanced side to side, looked at the words he didn’t understand. He expected to be told to do something horrific, like use these buttons and panels and rods to torture information out of his own team-mates, and a shudder ran down his spine.

They stood in silence.

“So… what’s your name?” He figured he could break the awkward tension with his even more awkward conversation, and ears twitched in his direction. The Galra still stood with his side to him.

“Ismael.” 

“I’m going to call you Issy.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Anyways, Issy, can you explain to me exactly what’s going on here?”

He looked irritated, but not like he was going to act on the emotion. “We’re waiting for the second commander of this vessel to come and assist you to your quarters.”

“My quarters? Why not just toss me in a cell with the rest of my friends?”

“Those weren’t my orders.” He’s quiet about it, almost as if there’s a tinge of shame in his voice, and it gives Lance a sense of injust. He stands there, his hands now crossing in front of him as he mindlessly rocks back and forth on his heels, lips puckered. Why were they waiting so long? What were they even going to do with him?

His head began to fall and wander off to where Keith might be. If he was okay, or if they had to worry that he was hurt. His mouth gaped in order to ask, but before he could, one of the doors latched open and he fell back into his uncomfortable silence. He swallowed thick. He shivered. And the intensity of whatever drug they had pumped into his system that had disagreed with his human body began to make him feel even worse.

The figure that stepped from the room with a single guard had to duck just to get inside the room. Ismael bowed his head in respect, avoiding making eye contact, but Lance’s first assumption of diligence moved simply to humor. The smaller Galra was humoring him -- for this one looked exactly the same.

Well, the height was definitely a pinpoint to some sort of difference, but the facial structure and the way that he stood, with his arms crossed behind him, the way his face was screwed upward, there was next to no way that they weren’t related by blood. A revelation to himself at the least. He had almost forgotten that Keith had stated being half galra. That meant that they could reproduce like this, right?

“Lance. Blue paladin of Voltron, it’s my honor to finally meet you. We’ve heard much about you.”

The words sent chills down his spine, both from the monotonous tone and the way his voice reverberated off the walls and shook him to his very core. For whatever reason, he was much more intimidated by this solider than any other one he had yet to encounter. “I am Commander Faltas. Welcome to the Cryon.”

Lance’s brow rose, and he couldn’t help the snide smirk that crossed his features. The Cryon? Another piece of interesting intel. Galra named their ships just like humans. Maybe they really weren’t that different.

He shook that idea from his mind. There was much more important things to think about than the similarities between the two species.

“Where are the rest of my friends?”

It was a demand. One that rewarded him a sharp hiss from the one standing behind him, staring up at Lance with an intensity he had seen too many times in the vicious beings. Yet Faltas did nothing but hold up a hand, a small grin on his face, “easy, Ismael. He has every right to question the whereabouts of the ones we extracted. However, he’s not going to get an answer he’ll enjoy.”

The shivers were back. His face felt pale, and his hands trembled, but he simply pulled them into fists and pushed any doubt passed his brain. He stood his ground, and the silence fell upon them once more, and he was given the smallest bark of laughter from the tallest. The commander moved to the podium, hand swiping upwards in a way that reminded him of Allura’s control panel, and he began to speak again.

“This,” he pointed to several letters that Lance could hardly recognize as Altean of all sorts, “is the small pod we sent with the paladins and advisor to our mother ship, where they will stay until our Emperor gives us further instruction. They are our prisoners, and therefore we will be the ones to be notified before harm comes to them. Don’t worry. We’ll tell you.”

 

* * *

 

Coran was the only one that was keeping his head on his shoulders. He wasn’t scared, huddled in the corner like Pidge was, holding her knees and shoving her face square between the caps. And he wasn’t guarding the door, prepared to attack anything that came through like Shiro was, sweat dotting along his forehead and his teeth bared. The only thing the Altean could think of was that he was reliving his days in the prison and was trying his hardest to not have an entire breakdown.

He moved forward, his eyes locked onto a cube that kept itself rooted into the ground with vine-like metal, climbing up the walls and allowing small drops of something unknown drip onto the floor. His first assumption was water, but the rest of the cell seemed to be too in-place in order for a small leak to have gone past the Galra’s sensors.

He was almost baffled by the invention. It glowed, a soft yellow, and radiated enough heat to convince him it must be some sort of heater. Now mesmerized, he could only flinch and glance backwards as he heard the door slide open, and the immediate battle cry of Shiro as he sliced his arm forward.

There was a clashing sound of steel coming together, and then a grunt, and a thud. His eyes followed the sound, and his first thought of their mighty black paladin being the assailant withered away as he watched him plummet, a scatter of sound as he witnessed a shatter. _His hand._

Broken in half.

Though Coran was appalled, he wasn’t able to move from his place, and the beast which stood in the doorway spat his arm out from between massive teeth. His voice reverberated through the room.  
  
“Come, or Keith will suffer your consequences.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well i guess you could say shiro GAVE HIM A HAND
> 
> no but in all seriousness- sorry for how late this is. been hella busy!!! you can find me on ctoile.tumblr.com if you ever need me *fingerguns*


End file.
